Who Will Cry
by TheRandomScribbler
Summary: Dying in Voldemort's clutches, Harry Potter reflects and wonders who will cry for him. Oneshot angstyficlet. Please r&r! COMPLETED!


**Who Will Cry **

**by**

**TheRandomScribbler**

**Summary: Dying in Voldemort's clutches, Harry Potter wonders who will cry for him when he is dead.**

**Rating: PG-13 for extreme angst, very mild cussing and violence (man I sound exactly like the MPAA's rating system or something!)**

**Disclaimer: JKR owns all. I own a kitty and a piano and YOU CAN'T STEAL THEM FROM ME!!**

**Author's notes: Review! Please! Flame if you want...this really isn't flame material, I can't see what there is to flame, but PLEASE review! I am in need of ego-boosting...**

**Thanks in advance to the reviewers!!**

**That's about all, now on with the story...**

Cry

Harry's POV

Death.

That's what I'm thinking about as the very breaths I take rack me with pain and make me want to give up oxygen for comfort.

I lie here on the cold stone floor, lying next to Voldemort, who is standing over me and laughing softly. He sits down on a throne-like chair and watches me.

I am bound in cords which none but a wizard whose strength matched Voldemort's could break. I have fought with him this evening. I lost.

And now, I am dying.

Voldemort has a Secret-Keeper. He doesn't need one, he just thinks it would be some sort of sick fun to keep me out of everyone's sight till the Secret-Keeper breaks and all my friends know where I am and rush to my rescue.

Ha.

As if.

I will never be rescued.

Voldemort's Keeper will crack, I know that. He is Wormtail, that worthless little piece of crap who betrayed my parents. It's all part of Voldemort's plan, to let them think they get to rescue me...but in reality as they come rushing up to help me it will all be in vain. I can imagine the pain on their faces...the looks as I die...and as I lie here, my knowing that in fifteen minutes I won't be alive. It doesn't matter if Wormtail tells. My wounds will kill me anyway.

I wince as I remember them. Put under the Cruciatus Curse for half an hour...under the Imperius and forced to hurt myself...under a Shrieking Curse and my eardrums as good as split...Inflammation Curse and my insides feeling constantly like they are on fire...the Dementor's Curse, that one's new, makes you feel like you've got a hundred dementors standing beside you, sucking all your happy memories out...and so many more I can't even remember but I can feel.

My body's barely alive. I want to give myself up, but I can't...I want to see...want to see them...just once more...I want to see Ron and Hermione just once again, even if it's their blurred and pained faces as my last sight...but I wonder, as I lie here, wracked with pain, barely able to move or take a ragged breath without fiery agony shooting up and down and inside me...I wonder...who will cry?

Who will cry for Harry Potter? Who will cry for me?

The Minister of Magic will intone what a tragic event has occurred, how sad it is, have a great huge public funeral for me and then everyone will forget.

Everyone will cry, I think.

But who are they crying for?

They're crying for the Boy-Who-Lived. They're crying for the public spectacle I've been made. They're crying because their neighbors do it.

Not because they knew or loved me.

Not because of who I am or what I meant to them.

Who will cry?

Ron and Hermione will cry for me.

Hermione will spend weeks and months recovering, crying in her bed, in public, everywhere. Girls are like that.

Ron is a nearly a man now. He will comfort Hermione. He will take a long time to recover, I know, but he won't show it. Not Ron.

He'll hide his emotions in a black box, where nobody can see them. He'll cry for me but behind doors. By himself.

And the whole Weasley family. They'll cry, Mrs. Weasley especially. They knew me.

But who else?

Maybe Cho Chang. But she doesn't really know me. We went out once and that was all. She would cry for Malfoy if he died, she's just sensitive like that.

Ah, yes. Draco Malfoy.

I know he won't miss me.

Although there were some things I didn't know about him. He has a valid reason for hating me. Hell, he hates the whole world for some of the things his father's done to him. Can't blame him. But still. I really wish I'd gotten to know him better. Maybe been his friend. I don't know.

But he'll not cry. He wouldn't cry if his best friend died. That's just the way he's been brought up—never cry, ever.

Who will cry?

Hagrid will. But Hagrid will get over it. He's mature. He knows life can't go on forever. But he will cry probably enough to make the lake overflow.

Ron. Hermione. The Weasleys and Hagrid.

Dumbledore. Would he cry?

I doubt it. He simply does not strike me as someone who is capable of shedding a tear. Perhaps I am mistaken. But I cannot ponder it or anything else for long.

The door to my prison is making noise.

"Let them in," Voldemort says lazily. "Let them in. They can see the boy die. _Crucio..._"

My body spasms and jerks, the pain is white-hot, I know they're coming, I can hold on, I know I can...I also know that more than three minutes under this curse will kill me. I gasp, I scream...

I see Ron and Hermione bursting in the door with Seamus and Parvati right on their heels.

"Harry!" Hermione screams, throwing herself towards me.

"You piece of shit—" this is from Ron aimed at Voldemort. "You are going to pay..."

"I would not waste time throwing insults," Voldemort says. "The boy will be dead in less than a minute."

I see them come towards me, the pain on their faces exactly as I imagined it...and I see their faces...it's one of the last things I see... the second last thing I see is all my Hogwarts friends, all the ones in my year, and Hagrid's there too...there are tears shining in their eyes...and then as I smile weakly and my last sight is of Ron and Hermione at the front of the group with tears in their eyes...only their tears are real...and they are pouring down their faces. Hermione is sobbing.

As I take my last breath I feel something salty and wet drop onto my lip.

And then I know who will cry for me.


End file.
